


An Artist's Muse

by DisguisedasInnocent



Series: Innocent's The 100 Femslash February 2015 [11]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 07:23:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3348590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisguisedasInnocent/pseuds/DisguisedasInnocent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Art as a concept holds little value to Lexa and her People, but when the art is provided by Clarke Griffin's hands, Lexa finds value in its form.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Artist's Muse

**Author's Note:**

> Day 11 - Clarke's partner/crush finds her drawings of them.

Lexa paused at the boundary of Clarke’s tent, parting the tarpaulin that formed the entrance to step inside, letting it flap closed in her wake. The dark haired woman allowed her eyes to shift across the objects in Clarke’s possession. A small gun sitting on the floor beside her bed, a book with its title peeling off its face on the girl’s pillow, and a small pile of papers perched on the edge of a box. Lexa pursed her lips, curiosity throbbing through her veins, her hands itching to lift the papers and pore over their contents.

The Commander could read the script on the front of the book and recognised it from one of the many she had passed to Clarke. The idea of it sitting on the girl’s pillow caused her heart to flutter with pleasure. Yet her attention remained on the papers.

Lexa waited a long minute to listen to the sounds of Camp Jaha floating through the air surrounding Clarke’s tent. Her ears detected the noises of the Guard moving at their posts, their eyes trained on the forest and the sky, but harmless to her People. She listened to the words of the workers, their teasing jokes and laughing comments ringing through her ears, as they carved out the wreckage of their former home.

The dark haired woman stepped away from the entrance of Clarke’s tent and knelt down in front of the box opposite the other Leader’s bed. Her fingertips reached out, tentative and unsure, to grasp the edge of the first paper on the pile. The woman lifted it, slow and careful, to not crumple the edges before tilting it to regard the image scrawled across its surface. Lexa’s lips rose at the corners as amusement filled her heart. The image showed Indra standing tall at the centre of her warriors, a spear in hand, as she praised their work in battle. Lexa placed the drawing off to the side and picked up the one that lay underneath. An image of Octavia in battle, braids flying about her head, swinging her sword with a fierce roar spilling from her lips jumped out of the paper.

Lexa continued working through the pile of portraits cataloguing the names of the people that appeared. Bellamy, Octavia, Indra, and Abby. The woman paused as she lifted another piece of paper, her eyes sliding across the fine lines etched into the surface of the paper. Hope, soft and tentative pounded through her veins.

“Lexa, are you in here?” Clarke’s voice questioned from outside the tent, the edge of the tarpaulin lifted and the blonde haired woman ducked inside. “Octavia said… oh.” 

“I am sorry Clarke.” Lexa mumbled in apology, placing the portrait down on top of the pile before standing in front of Clarke. “I did not mean to pry into your personal ideas. I did not mean to cause offence.”

“Oh,” Clarke swallowed and shook her head. “You didn’t… I mean, if anything, I’m the one that should be sorry.”

“Why?” Lexa queried. “Did you mean offence by sketching my image?”

Clarke’s cheeks flushed pink as she shook her head. “No! No, I didn’t.”

“Then I do not see how it is a problem.” Lexa reassured the girl with a brief smile and a soft touch of her hand against Clarke’s shoulder. “You captured my image well.”

“I…” Clarke ducked her head to avoid Lexa’s eyes, embarrassment playing across her features, before her gaze lifted to peer at Lexa’s face. “I don’t think I did you justice.”

“Perhaps it would be better if you could see me when you draw me next.” Lexa murmured, lifting her eyebrow with a smile on her lips. “Come, it is time for the meeting.”


End file.
